


A Starlit Dance

by SweetShireBones



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Canon but a bit to the left, Dancing, Doriath, Elflings being cute, Elvish betrothal customs, F/M, Inspired by the Tangled soundtrack, Literally describing someone only by hair colour, Marriage Proposal, No I can't explain, Pre-Dagorlad, Silvan and Sindar elves being tense with each other, betrothal, outside perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22624615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetShireBones/pseuds/SweetShireBones
Summary: An outside perspective on elvish betrothal customs, as told to an overly inquisitive elfling.
Relationships: Thranduil/Thranduil's Wife
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	A Starlit Dance

**Author's Note:**

> This is my un-betaed love letter to the blank space Tolkien left in his extensive canon for us fic writers to fill in as we see fit. And, fitting for a love letter to canon, I’ve basically thrown canon out the window. I hope my little foray into Middle Earth makes for an enjoyable read!  
—SweetShireBones

“Nana?” a wide-eyed elfling asks as the crowd gives way for the eligible maidens to gather themselves. “Why are they in a circle, all together? I don’t know this dance. Is that Prince Thranduil in the center?”

  
The queries come in a flurry; the child leaves no room for answers before moving on to the next. The naneth in question nudges her questioning daughter with her hip, willing her to be silent as she watches her eldest line up with the others.

It’s no more than a formality, she knows, that there is any elleth there besides the one known to all as the crown prince’s chosen. Their poorly hidden courtship was the reason King Oropher had demanded this ball in the first place. He thought a collection of elleths more suited would sway his wayward son and gathered all the eligible Sindar of an age to be considering betrothal. Though, if the cascades of nut-brown hair she saw braided away from the face of one of those in the circle amidst the silvers and blondes of the others were anything to go by, the stubborn prince was determined to have his way.

If he was her son, she would send him straight to Lothlorien without time for complaint. A few decades with the White Lady would do the boy nothing but good and might sort out the league-wide ornery streak in him. Still, she looked forward to the day when he rose up to lead them. The Prince was a good soul with a kind heart beneath all of King Oropher’s teachings. He would be a fine king.

“Yes, penneth. That is Prince Thranduil. He’s about to choose his wife.”

This clearly sent a thrill through the child as she bounced on her toes excitedly and dared speak once again.

“Oh, Nana! Tell me what’s happening. I can’t see!” She exclaims softly, standing on her toes as the music starts.

“They’ll all move in a circle around the prince now. And they’ll dance the same step.” She begins, memories of her own time at the King’s betrothal dance whirling to the surface like the leaves in fall. “The Prince will watch them all as they dance in time.”

“What is he looking for?”

“The woman he will betroth himself too. He could choose the most beautiful, or the most graceful, or, if he’s already courting, he could choose the one whom he loves.”

“Who will he choose?”

“Watch and see, penneth.”

The dancers swirl themselves around the Prince again and again and he gazes at them listlessly, obeying the formalities the dance demands. It’s clear that he only has eyes for his beloved. How incensed the King must be, his son and heir to the Sindar throne on the brink of pledging himself to a Silvan elf...

The music shifts and she can’t help but tense in anticipation. The Prince takes his place in front of the brown haired elleth. It doesn’t escape her notice that he’s smiling in a way unbefitting for the son of the King.

“What are they doing, Nana?” She feels a tug on her sleeve and begins narrating the process again.

“The Prince has chosen.”

“Is it over, then?” Her poor elfling sounds disappointed. And rightly so, if it was all over after they’d only moved in time around a circle, this ceremony would be very tedious indeed.

“Not in the least. See, now, the maiden will dance a series of steps that only she knows. She will try to make it as complex as she can.”

She harkens back to not a fortnight ago when she was helping her eldest put together her secret steps, laughing privately, after they’d finished, at the irony that her poor daughter’s hard work was for naught.

“Why, Nana?”

“Because, penneth, if the Prince dances those steps back to her in time then they will be betrothed, and they will dance the rest of the song together. When it ends, he will present her with a white gem of Lasgalyn on a silver thread, which she will wear for the rest of her life.”

It used to be that betrothed couples exchanged silver rings, which she thought was more sensible. They were exchanged with gold rings when the pair were married. She kept her betrothal ring tied to her husband’s, hanging in her favourite tree in the forest. When the wind whispered through the trees, it sent a soft sound cascading over the forest that sent a tremor of memories down her spine.

It was a simple custom, she knew. It only made sense the younger couples started pledging their betrothals in more elaborate fashions.

Her elfling watches wide-eyed as the elleth twirls and sways, her arms like the boughs of the trees in the wind.

“She’s beautiful, Nana. She looks like she’s made of stars!”

An apt description, she thinks. As if a wood-elf in love could resemble anything but the light from the darkened heavens!

The Prince dances the steps in a mirror image of his beloved, nary a toe out of place. The ceremony could not have gone more smoothly if they’d rehearsed it. It’s clear the two of them are meant to be, despite what those who favour the entirety of the old tradition, race matches included, would be inclined to think.

She glances up at the dais and sees King Oropher, a stormy expression marring his features. There will be a difficult conversation in the royal rooms tonight, this she knows. The poor child. She hopes the Prince is ready to defend his betrothed with everything he has. He will need to.

Her elfling joins in the whoops and cheering as the Prince dances together with his betrothed. They look blissful, as though there’s no one in the room but the two of them. She will feign disappointment for her daughter later in the evening and for her husband, ever loyal to the King and his ideals, but she thinks it is a blessed match. If they get the chance, once the King sails, they will rule well together.

“Look, Nana! She’s wearing the necklace!”

Sure enough, as the pair exit the circle with entwined fingers, a glimmer sits at the hollow of the elleth’s throat.

“Then it is done.” She says, readying herself for the flurry the kingdom will be in for the next season or two as everyone prepares for a wedding fit for royalty.

“It’s just like in a story.” The child gushes, spinning around in a girlish imitation of the dancers the way overtired children are wont to do. She tries to call her wayward child back but, before she can, the elfling stumbles and falls backward. It’s only the quick hands of the Prince’s beloved that keep her from pitching to the floor.

“Careful, penneth!” the elleth admonishes, but there’s no bitterness in her words and her eyes, sparkling with both exertion and elation, are nothing but kind. She smiles and the little elfling positively beams in the attention, not having the foresight to be embarrassed.

“Apologies, my Lord. And my Lady.” She says quickly, lowering her head.

“Don’t beg pardon for her joy.” the Prince says, twining an arm around his betrothed’s waist. “We should all feel a little joy today.”

“Indeed.” The Silvan agrees, the white gem catching the light from the candles and bouncing it across her face. She looks positively ethereal. “And soon, Thanduil, I should like to feel the joy of having a dancing elfling of our own to catch.”

The Prince gazes at his love with eyes of pure adoration and presses a kiss to her temple that would have his father in a fit of anger, should he be privy to it.

“Anything for you, meleth.” He murmurs, eyes glancing at the elfling who has forgotten her near accident and gone back to spinning in circles under the less than watchful eyes of her sister.

  
“These next few springs should have their fair share of green leaves, don’t you think?” He asks and it’s clear there’s meaning there she doesn’t understand, as the two of them walk out of the ballroom, holding each other and laughing up into the starlight.

**Author's Note:**

> This was almost entirely inspired by listening to Kingdom Dance, from the Tangled soundtrack, on repeat. I tried to use Tolkien's canon for Elvish betrothals and marriages as closely as possible because I adore how in-depth and beautiful the source material is, but ended up a long way off. Anything that isn't the exchanging of silver rings is pretty much a custom I made up. But, come on, what's a betrothal ceremony without some dancing?


End file.
